Sowing the City Streets
by lorrswim34
Summary: Amelia Drewe grew up as a simple farmer's daughter but really, she was much more than that. When her father, Anthony Drewe dies, she finds out she is really the daughter of Edith Crawley, the Earl of Grantham's Editor daughter, leading the girl to not only find answers of her past, but break out of her shell to find her true calling
1. Goodnight, Sweet King

Spring 1939

Amelia Charlotte Drewe sat at the bedside of her father, rubbing his hand gently as he stared up at the ceiling, mumbling to himself, the smell of death hanging in the air. No one had left the house today, knowing it would be his last, and with 8 mouths to feed, it was not an easy task, dropping the work they depended on, but this was more important to the Drewe children, to be with their last remaining parent before he died.

Their mother had been taken from them only 3 years ago with the birth of little Maggie, named for their mother, Margaret. Ever since then, Timothy Drewe had not been the same, his health deteriorating greatly, and now, at just shy of his 56th birthday, he was dying of what the doctors called pancreatic cancer. There was nothing they could do, and it meant each day had to be treated as his last. The diagnosis had only been made 4 months ago and it had taken every bit of him since, each day the man getting sicker and sicker, his children watching with helplessly.

The once handsome man was unrecognizable to anyone who may have known him, his skin sallow and peeling, his stomach distended to the point of looking as if it was going to pop. His once thick, dark hair had become thin and dusky and his eyes, once full of life, were hallow, lifeless. Even his limbs had gone from being all muscle to skeleton like sticks, unable to support his weight, to even hold a glass. Timothy Drewe was at the end of his suffering, his children taking on the entire work load of the farm and house. He had once be the commander of, running the farm with his team of children, each task getting done with nothing but smiles and laughter, but now the title was on Timothy Jr.'s shoulders, big shoes to fill for the man and his young bride, but it was a task he had no choice but to take, especially with how close they had come to losing the farm. They couldn't loose it again. The girls, Lillian and Amelia, had already taken on the role of mother to the young ones, Lillian taking the lead, Amelia following just behind her, both girl trying to do everything to stay strong, maintain normalcy for the household, but how could they without their father to tell them how good a job they were doing, that their mother would be proud.

The laughter and smiles were gone, and within the walls of the small farm house, the blonde girl could hear the sound of her younger siblings, Maggie, Elizabeth, and Edward, weeping, each distinctive from each other, Amelia's ears trained to know the difference in their cries from year of coming to their aid, having been the one to wake up to care for the baby Maggie throughout infancy, to nurse all of the young one when they were scared or sick. She could hear Tim trying to keep everyone calm, his wife, Katherine, probably rubbing his shoulders, Lillian singing softly and even the muttering of John praying to God. They had all had their turn to say goodbye, and as much as she wasn't ready to, Amelia was the last.

"I love you so much." Timothy muttered just loud enough for his daughter to hear. "You know….you know the truth." He was delirious, had been for a week now, the doctors saying his body was collecting toxins which were affecting his mind, but the girl knew what he was talking about. The fact she was adopted was no secret to her. It was a fact that was obvious from one look at her compared to her siblings, a group of dark haired, average height, stocky girls and boys. Then there wass Amelia: blonde, tall, blue eyed, a regal look to her with an pointed chin, prominent cheek bones, and a small hook to her nose that no one else had. She had know from an early age she was never one of them, but she loved them. They all loved her back, even if she was the awkward little duckling of the bunch.

"I know papa…please…say no more." Amelia begged, not wanting to hear it. She wanted it all to remain a mystery. Her curious mind was already searching for answers of where she had come from. She had no traces though, no birth certificate, not even a location of her birth and she knew that one little hint would cause her to go looking. She was grateful for her family, a family she loved dearly, that treated her no differently than as if she were born into it. Her parent's had loved her dearly, her mother dotting on her as much as everyone else, making sure she had the best they could get. Oh sweet mama, may she rest in peace. The woman who nursed every fever, cuddled her through ever nightmare, had been there for every birthday, and then there was papa, who would take her with him to see the pigs whenever she had ask, kissed her goodnight ever single solitary night, nursed her through her first broken heart when the boy she liked did give her a valentine's day gift. She was lucky for the time she had had with her parent's, and with each second, Amelia could feel her heart ripping more and more as the light fading fast from her papa's eyes.

"You were born in Geneva…" He started, his voice just a murmur, but crystal clear to the girl, who was listening intently." Her heart pounded in her chest, the thumping in her ears driving her mad. She wanted him to stop. No, she couldn't go searching, not when she had a family that loved her, but with each word, her brain seemed to keep asking for more, to know who had really given birth to her, why she had been given to a farmer and his wife.

"Please papa…stop…you need to rest." Amelia pleaded, but the man was in another world, and she knew that he wouldn't stop. She didn't even think that he knew what she was saying anymore, just of her voice, her presence, her real words and demands probably being twisted in his mind from "No" to "Yes".

"Edith Crawley." He said at last, "Your Mother." The man breathed the last word out heavily, his voice getting caught in his throat, his chest heaving a bit before stopping, the faint heart beat Amelia could feel in his wrist pausing, and with one last glace, the girl locked eyes with the man. She staring at him, seeing the last glimmer in his eyes saw as they rolled back and shut, his head going limp, a small smile on his lips. Timothy Drewe, her Daddy, was gone.

Amelia could feel the tears welling up in her bright blue eyes, hot and burning, falling down her cheeks like small rivers. However, her mouth still hung ajar from his last words, of finding out that her mother was, someone she had met, chatted to a few times before. The Drewe family had lived next door to the Crawley's for some time, for a century according to the family history, and to think she was the daughter of a woman who came from the family that owned the land she had worked and sowed since she could hold a hoe. She was shocked, so shocked that she seemed to not know what to feel. But then she looked back down at the man that really was her father in all the ways that counted, reality hitting her harder than a kick to the chest.

"Good night, my sweet king. Say hello to mama for me." She whispered, placing a kiss on his forehead, crossing his arms across his chest, and then, pulling the blanket up to his neck to make it look as if he were sleeping. She sighed and walked out the room, looking at the many sets of brown eyes suddenly staring at her, nodding her head gently before breaking down, her knees buckling into the nearest chair, everyone coming to her, all 8 Drewes hugging each other and sharing their grief.

* * *

The funeral was three days later, the entire family working hard to give their father a proper send off. They did not stop working the fields until the day of his burial as there was too much work that needed to be done. The Crawley's pigs needed tending, the barley field needed to be sown and the wheat field needed seeds spread. A farm could not stop running but of course, everyone found themselves working slower than normal, no talking or laughing or singing coming from the usually cheerful bunch, the only sound being the quiet of the ground being turned as the sowed the fields in deep mourning.

The morning of the funeral was the hardest for the close knit family, Amelia and Lily fussing to make sure everyone looking their best, ironing the clothes that had been taken out, making sure they fit the growing children properly. It had been hard to find enough black that fit, but thankful they had managed. Sitting in the small church, the Drewe family took up the entire front row of the chapel as they listened to the new vicar speak about their father. This preacher hardly knew him though, and so the generic speak was not something that grabbed their attention, Amelia's especially, who's mind was already wondering from the shock of everything she had learned. Maggie sat on her lap, cuddling into her chest, sucking her thumb for comfort. Normally, Amelia would be the first to scold the girl, yelling at her to stop before she ruined the shape of her mouth, but today she was too grief filled and distracted to stop the child, instead just rubbing the tiny girl's back, adjusting her black cotton dress every so often, a nervous habit, along with brushing the girls soft brown curls. Maggie was her baby, Amelia having practically raised her from birth. It was only natural for her to fuss, but today, knowing that this little girl would have more emotions then she could handle, Amelia took extra special care to make sure she was comfortable.

She could see the Crawley family in the second row across from her, staring forward, each person wearing a different expression on their face. Lord and Lady Grantham held each others hands gently, the greying man and woman smiling sadly, looking down every so often. It had not been long for them since they had been in the exact same spot as the Drewe's were now. Old Lady Grantham having finally died last year at the ripe old age of ninety-five. Amelia found herself locking eyes with them once or twice, causing her to turn back quickly to avoid the darting blue gazes, fearing they were staring at her, even more aware now that she knew what she knew. Then there was the dark hair Lady Mary, stoic, indifference twisted on her lips. Her son, George, next to her, straight backed, a tight lipped frown on her square, handsome face, his blue eyes glistening a bit in the light from the stain glass windows, light that caused his blonde hair to shine like gold. Amelia had heard he was the spitting image of his father, but looking at him now, the girl could swear he was wearing the same expression as his mother. Finally, Amelia's eye's landed on Lady Edith, the girl finding herself staring at the woman longer than she should, only to turn back when she realized how awkward she was probably making things. Edith had to know who she was. It wasn't possible for her not too.

The service ended with hymns, the family standing at the front of the church to receive condolences. It wasn't even a moment before Lord Grantham appeared, addressing all of the children after shaking Timmy's hand, looking down the line a bit, his eyes falling on the lone blonde for a split second longer than the rest. That always seemed to happen whenever the children were lined up, Amelia sticking out like a sore thumb.

"I'm so sorry for your lose and I hope you all find relief in knowing you father is no longer suffering." The noble said, his wife taking a hold of his hand gently. The children each thanked The Lord and Lady in a scatter of replies, the man nodding a bit before leaving, his eldest daughter and granddaughter in tow.

"If anyone of you should be in need of work, don't hesitate to come to the Abbey. I'm sure we can find you something." Lady Edith said to the four oldest, looking at them all individually, and when her eyes made it to the Amelia, she stopped and stared at the girl, Amelia's back straightening a bit as the two locked eyes, more than just for a second, but a good moment. As uncomfortable Amelia had felt at first, staring into this woman's brown eyes, noticing how they had almost all the same features: The same blonde hair, the same hooked nose, even the same slight pout to the lip. It felt natural, almost perfect to see this mirror image staring back at her and younger blonde found herself wanting more, to know more about her birth mother and just as the woman walked away and followed after her family, Amelia's mouth twisted into a small smile as a plan hatched in her head.


	2. Catch Your Dream

With death, life still had to move on and each of the older Drewe children seemed to find their place in the world, everyone but Amelia that is. Of course, Timmy had the farm, filling his father's role with much skill, and with the Woman's Land Army coming to help farm their fields, each and every one had an easier work load, more time to enjoy as a family, and forming new friendships because of it. The girls, all 6 of them, were lovely woman, some with husbands fighting in the war themselves, and all were eager to work the land with Timmy commanding them. But with more free time, it was no surprise when John came home in full uniform, no longer just John, But Private Drewe, member of the British Army

"I've come to say goodbye." The man said to Amelia as she was feeding the pigs early one morning. Amelia was adamant about taking care of the pigs herself, of getting up early, throwing her hair into a pale pink scarf, slipping on her rubber boots over tan, patched slacks and buttoning up her work blouse, the once pink floral faded and browned from wear. It didn't feel right to the girl to give away the job that her and her papa would do together each and every day. She watched Maggie, wearing her ragged play dress, petting the animals gently as she stomped through the mud in her rain boots, giving one last jump into the mud before looking up at John.

"You don't have to do this you know. There are plenty of men to fight." She was worried for him. Amelia loved her brother and could not think about what might happen to him on the continent when fighting. She knew it was too late for him to back out, but she could hope couldn't she?

"I want to fight though. If those girls can come and work our land, I should be out fighting just as their husbands are." Amelia bowed her head a bit, trying not to cry. Her brother was no longer a little boy. He was 18, a man in the eyes of the law. Looking back up, she could see he was no longer a boy with a baby faced girl, dazzling innocents in his chestnut eyes. John already had a new aura about him, a spitting image of her father, his dark hair perfectly combed, the stubble on his cheeks and squared jaw perfectly shaved, his innocent brown eyes harder than before.

"You'll right won't you? Please write and let us know you are safe." Amelia cried out, her voice cracking. She reached out and hugged him tightly. She felt his arms wrap around her, rubbing her back gently.

"For my little sister? Of course I will write, a letter every day if you so wish. I love you. Stay safe, and keep the little ankle biters in line for me." Amelia giggled at that as only her brother would call them that, even though his baby siblings were wrapped around his little finger. She held him a few minutes longer, and then gave Maggie a quick goodbye, the little girl not sure exactly of what was going on. Amelia was jealous of her for that, that she could be oblivious to her older brother going away, sad for a few seconds, and then go back to playing with the pigs as if nothing happened. Amelia finished her work as soon as he was out of sight, watching John walk all the way up the hill, not looking away until he was out of sight, and even then, she kept looking back, hoping he would come back, but he didn't

And again, life continued even without him, Amelia spending more time in the house cooking and cleaning, her and her sister Lillian enjoying the time together as much as they did before their father had gotten sick. The sisters were thick as thieves, laughing and gossiping as they made dinner and hung laundry. Even at night, when they should have been exhausted, the two girls who had shared a bed since they could remember, cuddled in each other's warm, gossiping about everything and anything until they were too tired to talk

"Maybe I should become one of those war brides, give a man someone to think about overseas." Lillian suggested to herself as she played with the ribbon on her braided hair. Her and Amelia discussed what they should do with their lives now they were stuck in a routine of cooking, cleaning, washing, sleeping, the same cycle each and every day. Lillian didn't seem to mind it. She always had wanted nothing more than to be a wife and mother, but Amelia couldn't bare it. She found herself trapped.

"Don't be daft. Then you have to marry the man even if you don't like him, they don't all come back dead you know." Amelia scolded, being more gentle with the last bit. Silently, she prayed for John, now gone one month, still in boot camp"I was thinking…I would go over to the Abbey in the morning and ask them for a position. We need the money and they did say if we needed any help they would find a place for any of us." It was a plan Amelia had been forming in her head since the funeral and now they were allowed to take off their mourning arm bands, it seemed like the perfect time. Amelia couldn't stop thing about the Crawley's and how her mother was just up that hill. She wanted to know more about her, about their family, more than just the gossip that came about them in the village.

"You! A servant?" Lillian spat, a bit shocked at the notion. "I wouldn't like not having you here with me, but I won't say no to it either, especially when money is involved!" And so it was settled, at least with Lillian. Timmy had had the same notion, not willing to turn down money at such a time, money that could help keep the younger ones fed and clothed, security if they so happened to have a failure of crops. Amelia didn't tell the younger ones of her plan, knowing they would not like to see their big sister, there mother figure, living somewhere else. But Amelia need this, a change in scenery and a way of getting answers.

Amelia went the next morning to the estate, having requested a meeting with Lady Edith a few days prior, and had gotten a positive response to it. She had dressed in her best outfit, a light blue day dress, clean and starched, her hair in beautiful soft curls, pulled back by a simple hair pin. Her shoes were shined to perfection and for the occasion, brand new stockings, the silk ones she had saved so long for. She even broke out her makeup, a rarity to wear, putting on a little blush, a touch of mascara to bring out her eyes and soft touch of lipstick, the pink shade subtle on her lips.

But of course, when the butler, a dark haired man with an oily smile, lead her into the library, she was greeted by not Lady Edith, by her sister, Mary, who did not seem to have a clue why this farm girl was even hear.

"Good Morning. I must say we were not expect you." Mary said with a bit of annoyance in her voice. Amelia already felt intimidated by the woman, her dark hair twisted into an elaborate bun, her dress impeccable. She was definitely showing her age, years of scowling and frowning leaving her with age lines, but Amelia would be lying if she didn't believe that the woman was beautiful for a woman in her forties, handsome really "Please have a seat. Barrows, please have the tea brought up." The woman commanded the man before he left the room. "Now, what exactly, pray tell, brings you up here today."

"You see, my Lady, ever since my father's death, we have been quite unsure of how we are doing financially. Farming is a risky business and this is our first time doing the entire crop season alone. Your sister, Lady Edith, said that if we needed any help, she was sure we could find work here at the Abbey. I was actually expecting to meet with your sister." Amelia stated as best she could, doing her best to appear charming, educated, sound needing without being desperate.

"I'm sorry to say my sister spoke prematurely. She really has no say in who works here and to be honest, we have no need for anymore servants. The war is never kind to great house like this and we might have to downsize." Amelia nodded a bit, at that, a little upset but not so much as to beg. Still, she wanted to have a word with Edith, if she could.

"I understand, my lady. Still, I was hoping I could have a word with your sister. She was quite sure she could find me something. If she's around, I would very much appreciate speaking with her." Amelia said, a bit of pleading in her voice. She needed to speak with her, to have some exchange with the woman who gave birth to her. Lady Mary frowned at her words though, staring at the girl for a few seconds, just as her father had done a few days before

"My sister is not her. She had to go back to London quite urgently, something abouta deadline and some article. I assure you she would of cancelled of she had had the time but she was on the first train this mornin. Lady Edith is an editor, as you might know, and hasn't lived here in quite some time. Besides, she had no authority in such matters, to be honest." The woman scolded, her wrinkles becoming more prominent with the furrow of her high, intense, eyebrows. Amelia's heart sank at that, but of course, she tried not to let it show, but Mary read her like a book. "Why are you so upset about such a thing? Honestly, no one is ever upset about not being able to talk to my sister." Amelia smiled a bit, tucking a stand of blonde hair behind her ear nervously. It was clear Mary and Edith were far from close and that Edith was just as Amelia was, the odd duck out.

"Honestly, my lady, it is nothing of importance and I'm sure there is no need to get into it." Amelia said, standing up, knowing that she would be escorted out. "Thank you, my Lady, for meeting with me. I greatly appreciate it." And just like clockwork, the butler, Barrows came in to escort her out. She thanked the lady again before walking out and walking back to farm, defeated and lost at what to do. She thought the entire way back if it was work it, scuffing through the village with her head down. She sighed a bit when she walked past the newspaper stand. Reading papers was one of Amelia's favorite things to do, studying the writing of some of the greats. She wished to be a writer, but she knew it was a far stretch for her, that the most writing she would ever do is the scribblings in her journal each and every day. But site, she loved to study the writing of the crème de la crème of journalism, even if it meant buying newspapers and magazines that she had no business reading, such as the Sketch. Sure, it was about high class society, but the writing was some of the best for woman's interest, a masterpiece of its genre.

Amelia took her papers: The Sketch, The Lady, and The Times, paying the man for her reading before heading back to the farm house, a bit defeated in her quest. Once on the path back, the girl opened "The Lady", flipping throught the pages as she continued to walk, nothing but the sounds of spring and her foot steps for company. She had made it half way back when she suddenly stopped, staring at an advertisement, clear as day, almost shouting at her.

_Wanted:_

_Personal /Ladies Maid for the Editor of the Sketch_

_Lady Edith Crawley_

_Must be willing to travel_

_Experience in hair and make-up a plus_

_Open interviews Weekdays 12 to 2 at the Sketch Office_

_1345 Fleet Street Room 301_

_London, England_

After reading this for the fourth time, Amelia finally realize what she had to do. Running to the house, she through the door open going to her room and opening her drawer fiercely. She quickly found it, the letter from Geneva she had gotten the day before, not wanting to open it right away, but now, she felt she had too and with a quick movement of her letter opener, the envelope busted open, the girl's hand fumbling to pull out the paper, but she did, her heart begging to race as she read it, the conformation to her father's last tale. It was all in French, but despite it, and from the bits and bobs she could understand, she was able to pick out the details easily.

_Certificat de Naissance_

_Nom: Gregson_

_Prénom: Amelia Rosamund Violet_

_Sexe: Femelle_

_Date de Naissance: 16 Décembre 1923_

_Lieu de Naissance: Genève, Suisse_

_Père: Michael Edward Gregson_

_Mère: Edith Amelia Crawley_

The girl knew now that she had to go to London, to do whatever she could to get this job, to become not only one step closer to her mother, but to also be one step closer to her dream of writing for a major publication. The girl took a few minutes to relax, to unwind, her mind racing, pulling out her journal, the plaid colored book stained with ink, the pages beginning to yellow. Quickly, Amelia hopped to her desk pulling out her pen and drawing up the ink before spilling her soul onto the pages.

_Dearest Journal,_

_I know I have been lacking in my entries. Please forgive me for that. I fear my heart has been quite heavy the past month with not only the passing of papa but John's decision to go on and fight for my country. I know it's wrong of me to try and hold him back from something he is quite passionate about, but I fear of losing him. He is happy though, which is all that really matters and just as he promised, he tries to write every day. It seems everyone has found their purpose since papa's death, except for me that is. For weeks I have struggled with demon, my morality stuck between spilling my soul or keeping things bottled up, forgetting about them and moving on with life. I simply can't do that though, and it would be unfair to you to hid things that are that much important to my life story. On papa's death bed, he told me that I was adopted, something I had known since I could practically talk. After all, I never did resemble mama, papa or any of my siblings. I'm afraid, though, that in the delirious state papa was in, and he revealed my true parentage and where I was born. I am more curious as to why I was given to him and mama of all people, but the fact of the matter is, I now know more than I should about my true self and I'm sure he never meant to tell me such things. But I'm sorry, my dear journal, I am finding it hard to just ignore it. I love my family with all my heart, but really, I have always been the little odd piece that never quite fit in the puzzle, my quirks and interests so much different from the rest of the children. To them, all that matter is that we have a good crop season, to have the work gets done on time, that we live life to the fullest. I don't understand though, how they believe you can living life without so much as leaving the village. I should be grateful for the life I have, and I am not saying I am not. I love my dear family with all my heart, and it pains me to have to leave them, to make my little Maggie, Lizzy and Eddie spend nights knowing I won't be there, but I must do this, go to London, not only for the money, but for embracing my inner curiosity and expanding my horizon. _

_I've always had dreams of writing, of having my words spread across the magazines and newspapers to be read by all those in England only later to be used as the wrapping of a fish and chips. Still, as horrible as that sounds, I want to be in print, and no way am I getting to do such a things just sitting her, watching the sun rise and set day after day. I need a change in view, too look at the same sun but from a different prospective, and at the same time doing that, I can find out about my true parentage. I won't write down the name of my mother for fear that this journal is ever lost, I would hate for her name to end up somewhere, but all I can say is, I would have lived a life of high class, of nobility, of champagne and dancing, of debutants and ball gowns, a life that I have only ever dreamed of, read about in the novels. It's a life I want a taste of, a life I may just be able to have by going to London and becoming a personal assistant to not only one of the best female Editors in London, but also, the woman who gave birth to me._


End file.
